The Enchantress

by May McGoldrick

  “I should have thought you knew all about him. My understanding was that you two spent a great deal of time together in your youth. Certainly, since you are such good friends--”

  “We were good friends.”

  “Is that so?” Laura asked with surprise. “He still speaks quite highly of you.”

  “Of course. The snake could not have had warmer hospitality than he has received at Blackfearn Castle.”

  “Hospitality?” Laura repeated, biting her lip to hide her amusement.

  “Aye.”

  “Well, other than raving about your hospitality, he has been telling me a little about himself.”

  “His favorite topic.”

  William suddenly rose to his feet and took a step toward her. She held her breath. The fire in his eyes was there, and it was unmistakable. He hesitated, passion burning in his gaze.

  She was no expert in the ways of lovemaking. But when it came down to how he acted whenever they were near--and how she felt for William right now--there was no doubt in her mind that he desired her as she desired him.

  And then, abruptly, he retreated, turning toward the hearth. A sting of disappointment coursed through her.

  The provost had convinced her that for her own safety, marriage was her best course of action. William appeared to have agreed. This, however, was where Laura’s confusion centered. Was she not worthy enough to be his wife?

  “Sir Wyntoun appears quite open to the idea of taking a wife.” Before she even spoke the words, she knew they would rile him. And yet out they came.

  His head turned sharply, his expression darkening. “Has he asked for your hand in marriage?”

  She shook her head. “Not yet.”

  “And yet you have broached the subject with him.” He seemed to be wrestling with his words. “Have you asked him?”

  “I could never do such a thing.”

  “And why not?”

  Laura bit back the words that were ready to spill out. The truth was that, despite his looks, his charm, and position, she did not find Sir Wyntoun...thrilling. Pleasant, aye. Thrilling, nay.

  He simply did not affect her the way the man standing before her did.

  Perhaps if she had met Sir Wyntoun before she had ever seen William Ross. Before she knew the heat that could flood through a woman at the simple touch, at the mere look, of a certain man.

  There was no comparison between them. She had none of those jumbled feelings of wishing and hoping and fearing and aching that came when she was with William. When she was with Sir Wyntoun, she never felt the way she did at this very moment.

  She wanted this man.

  She wanted him to hold her in his arms right now. She wanted to be kissed the way he’d kissed her before. She ached to feel her body come unraveled, to feel him move her the way he’d moved her before. He’d offered her a taste of the fruits of passion. She wanted to share all of it--with William Ross.

  With William Ross.

  Her chin dropped to her chest. She was indeed a woman doomed.

  “So you feel ‘tis not proper for you to make the offer.”

  She looked up and saw the troubled look continuing to darken his brow. She had difficulty regaining the strands of their conversation. Marriage. Sir Wyntoun.

  “Your brother has offered to manage any negotiations on that topic. And I suppose, trusting in his assistance, it shall all be done properly.”

  William turned his face away and Laura deeply regretted bringing up the subject. She knew that he wrongly assumed that she wished to be married to his friend.

  She did not wish to let things stand as they were. But something within her--foolish pride perhaps--would not let her correct his misapprehension. William Ross was not making any offers for her hand.

  When he turned back to her, his tone was cool. “You wanted to speak to me about some other matter.”

  He sat down behind the worktable, seriousness etched in his face. The items on the table were all tidily arranged. Laura thought for a moment of paying him a compliment regarding the changes that were going on in the castle, but his frown discouraged any idle talk.

  “I have a great deal scheduled today,” he said, motioning to a chair.

  She nodded. She had requested this audience on Miriam’s behalf. Their own private situation would have to wait for another time. “About your niece.”

  “Miriam.”

  At least he was acknowledging that she had a name. “I know she has only just arrived, but I believe you might want to reconsider your plans for the child.”

  Silence was his only answer.

  “She is only seven,” Laura continued. “And despite having been orphaned for over two years and apparently having no kin of any consequence at Hoddom Castle--”

  “The lass was there with her grandsire.”

  “An elderly gentleman who, by all accounts, kept himself quite removed from the child.”

  “Men like Lord Herries have the business of the world to attend to. What would he have to do with a bairn?” William stopped and frowned more deeply. “Is that Miriam’s complaint?”

  Laura shook her head. “I asked Sir Wyntoun about Miriam’s care at Hoddom Castle.” She saw concern darkening his expression. “I don’t wish to taint the good name of Lord Herries. Your friend assured me that there was plenty of comfort provided for your niece. But providing comfort and a bit of tutelage seems to be where Miriam’s care ended.”

  “Many would consider that more than enough.”

  “True. But many have hearts of stone.” She entwined her hands, softening her tone. “As a wee one who has not had the continuing affection of a parent, Miriam has needs that are not trivial. She has spent the last few years not even knowing the place that she should consider home.”

  Laura looked down at her hands and tried to choose the right words. Having William understand Miriam’s needs was important. But she did not want to sound patronizing in her statements. She knew that William Ross was one of those few men who were unafraid of demonstrating tenderness. She had felt it herself firsthand.

  “Miriam is eager to please. She strives for perfection. And ‘tis because I have seen how anxious she is to get your attention and seek your approval that I repeat my original plea that you reconsider your plans and your feelings for her.”

  “I have reconsidered them.”

  His simple statement took her breath away. “Do you mean, she’s staying?”

  “Aye. Was there anything else?”

  She looked for some warmth in his eyes. Some joy in this decision regarding something so important to his life. But there was none of it in his blue eyes, and something within her ached. “She...she is making you a present. ‘Tis not something you need, to be sure, but--”

  “I’ll receive her gift graciously.” He rose to his feet. “If you’ll forgive me, I have to meet Edward in the yard.”

  She had been dismissed.

  CHAPTER 19

  “Well, you’re a popular man in that village this night, William Ross.”

  “That so?” Sitting astride Dread, high on the brae overlooking the stone huts clustered in the glen, the laird frowned into the darkening gloom. Somehow, he couldn’t quite bring himself to share in Edward’s good feeling.

  “Aye. Surely you saw it yourself. And after we split up, we went to the smith’s widow and her bairns. By the saint, you’d think that the angels had descended on them when we dropped the venison at her hut. She was thanking you and praying for you all at once. And auld Roger as well, was singing your praises to the sky for the bolt of woolen cloth. I thought his wife was never going to stop crying.”

  “For a wee bit of cloth?”

  “That wool might as well have been cloth of gold, m’lord.”

  “What of the hermit?”

  “We found him up the glen. And although he threatened to murder all of us, he still came down to take the ale and the oats.”

  William turned his horse toward the far hill. “Where are the men
?”

  “Heading off in a half dozen directions, though a few were thinking to stop for a wee dram at The Three Cups.” Edward peered through the deepening darkness at his laird. “How was the steward’s widow?”

  William shook his head. “Not so well, I’m afraid. Though she still has much of her old sense of humor, she doesn’t seem to be able to come to grips with Robert’s death. In fact, I’m not so sure she’s better off by herself in that tumble-down cottage.”

  “Aye, but she was determined not to live in the castle after the old man died.”

  “Maybe so. But that was only because she couldn’t see herself as being of any help to the rest. ‘Twas my fault not to see to it that she stayed.”

  “‘Tis not too late to bring her back.”

  “Perhaps not, Edward. We’ll just see if Symon can think of some worthy job for the woman to put her mind to.”

  An icy drizzle had been falling off and on all day. William felt nothing, though, of the cold or the fact that he had been soaked to the bone for hours. He could not get out of his mind the warmth of the welcome of those people he’d visited today. His people. His responsibility.

  The sound of the revelers at the Three Cups down the hill was echoing in the hills. Though the piper was either incompetent or completely drunk, the laughter and the singing was a satisfying sound to the Ross laird.

  The rain was falling harder, and Edward wiped the water off his face. “Peter was wondering if your invitation to the village folk for the Christmas dinner and celeidh at the castle included the wenches from the tavern.”

  “Considering the temperament of Peter’s Wife, the man had best not be asking such questions. He’ll be lucky to see Twelfth Night in one piece if his woman gets wind of it.”

  William and Edward crossed the path of a man and his wife, who was berating her husband as they made their way home from the tavern. The husband raised a hand to the laird as the woman paused in her tirade and dropped a curtsy.

  William smiled. “A fine night to be taking your Ellie out and about, Jock.”

  “Aye, m’laird. Just the night for a wee walk. In fact, she was thanking me for it...and just this moment, too.”

  They all laughed and parted ways.

  Edward picked up their conversation where they’d left off. “Peter assures me that ‘tis not for his own sake that he is asking, but for the gaiety of the other men, including his laird.”

  William cast a curious glance at his grinning man. “Since when has Peter the time to be concerned about anything but pacifying that hot-tempered wife of his?”

  “Aye, Peter’s Wife is a force to be reckoned with, but I’m thinking ‘tis really Molly who’s been asking. From what I hear, the wench has been complaining to everyone that comes within shouting distance of the place that you never come by anymore. Something about wondering if you’ve taken a wife to your bed without telling her first.”

  William snorted out aloud. “The next time you see the brazen Mistress Molly, tell her she is worrying for naught. I’ll be paying her a visit soon enough.”

  Edward reined in his horse and nodded toward the small tavern a short distance away. “You might stop and tell her that yourself, Will. I’m thinking that nearly everyone has retired for the night back at the castle.”

  William slowed his own horse and considered doing just that. A romp in the hay with that brassy, blue-eyed wench offered pleasures not to be scoffed at. But the interest he had usually been able to work up in the past tonight seemed so distant somehow.

  He shook his head at Edward. “Nay. I think tonight is not the night for it.”

  “Should we tell them, though--the women in the tavern--that they are invited?”

  “Aye. They live on Ross land. They’re welcome the same as anyone.”

  *****

  As Laura had promised Sir Wyntoun, she went back down to the Great Hall right after Miriam had fallen sleep. As one who was always interested in learning new things and hearing about new places, Laura was keen to hear more about the Western Isles.

  There was a specific place that he had mentioned earlier that had particularly caught her interest. Barra, the island off the west coast where Sir Wyntoun said his mother had been born.

  Barra. Where her sister Adrianne had been sent to take refuge.

  Laura was suddenly very anxious to learn more about this island of Barra and the people who inhabited it.

  The Great Hall was fairly quiet when Laura entered, and the dogs that were scattered about raised their heads for only a moment. There were a few men talking and laughing in low voices at a table by the door leading to the kitchens, and some sleepers were tucked into dark corners, but the place had obviously settled down for the night. As she glanced about, she realized that the provost had apparently retired, and there was no sign of the laird’s return from the village, either.

  Sir Wyntoun, however, was sitting alone by the fire, and he quickly rose to his feet at her approach.

  “I was beginning to lose hope that you would return, Mistress Laura.”

  She took the seat by the hearth that he offered. Immediately, Willie, the provost’s dog, emerged from under one of the trestle tables and lumbered over, sitting down expectantly next to her chair. Laura smiled and laid a gentle hand on the dog’s head.

  “I am sorry. But I wanted to wait and make certain Miriam was already asleep.”

  “You’ve taken a great liking to the child.”

  Laura met the Highlander’s intense green eyes. “‘Tis impossible not to. She is the most agreeable and loving child I’ve ever encountered.”

  A smile broke over the man’s handsome face. “And what is it that makes me believe that you would say that for all children that you might encounter?”

  “You would be incorrect in assuming that, Sir Wyntoun. ‘Tis not true.” Laura straightened her skirt on her lap as Willie lay down by her feet. “Though I have not known a large number of young ones in my life, I can name at least one who was a disagreeable imp from birth.”

  One dark brow rose. “Can you, now?”

  “Aye!” Laura blurted. “My younger sister, Adrianne. She was born to be disagreeable. In fact, my mother said Adrianne was the son my father never had.”

  A hearty laugh rumbled up from within the knight, and she studied the man’s face in the firelight. Dark, with finely etched features, his face was unmarked by scars. His green eyes were piercing when he directed his gaze at her. He was quite handsome, she decided, wondering why the man could stir up no further interest on her part.

  He drew up a bench near the fire and sat down as well. Two powerful arms rested on his knees as he leaned forward. “Your sister, Adrianne, how much younger is she than you?”

  “Two years,” Laura said confidentially. “Though a person who has seen all of us together might conclude that Adrianne has simply never matured beyond her younger years.”

  “Stubborn?”

  “Pigheaded.”

  “Opinionated?”

  “Extremely. And...active!”

  Wyntoun stretched his long legs before him. The dog lifted his head and gave him an annoyed look. “Too bad we couldn’t have arranged for William to meet her. It sounds as if she would be the perfect match for my dear old friend. Certainly, if he could find a woman better suited to his own temperament, then he might stop following you around like some amorous young bull.”

  He had meant his comment as a compliment to her, Laura was quite sure, but she found a knot forming in her throat at the thought of someone else--anyone else, even her own sister--being considered a better match for William Ross. A perfect match, Wyntoun had called it.

  “I can see I spoke in haste.”

  She shook her head and forced her gaze up to meet his. He was quite observant.

  “There is more in this--this attachment between you and William than just him playing Troilus to my Diomedes.”

  “I should hope I am more loyal than any Cresseid.”

  “You mean l
oyal to that surly, ne’er-do-well friend of mine.”

  There was no use in denying it. Her feelings for William were simply too strong to accept another man as a suitor, regardless of what the provost was trying to do for her. And she certainly had no right to mislead a man who--despite all of William’s bluster--was a friend.

  “Aye, ‘tis true,” she said at last. “But please take this...this admission as one made in confidence. These feelings I have are mine alone.”

  “You believe he does not share your affections?”

  She paused for a moment and then shook her head. A woman can plan and pray for a future, but the past is a strong enemy to overcome.

  Wyntoun pulled his bench forward, leaning closer to her with an air of one person confiding in another.

  “Let me tell you something, mistress. ‘Twould surely be in my own best interest to see you lose hope in William. To be honest, nothing would satisfy me more than seeing you decide instead to allow something to bloom between us. However, my honor forces me to tell you the truth.”

  Laura met the man’s emerald eyes as they bore into hers.

  “Before this journey,” he continued. “I have never seen William lay claim to a woman as he has laid claim to you.”

  “I can assure you, your friend’s behavior has been for the benefit of riling you more than--”

  “Nay, mistress.” Wyntoun shook his head. “I’ve known him for many years. Speaking candidly, we have shared together a great many...misadventures, both here in the Highlands and elsewhere. William has never been one to seek out--how can I say this delicately--permanence in his female companionship.”

  And with William’s good looks and easy charm, Laura thought with a pang of jealousy, he surely never had to.

  “In a time when many young men in our position choose a mistress with the same seriousness that their families demonstrate in choosing them a wife, William has casually moved on from one liaison to the next.” Wyntoun looked at her, a frown tugging at the corner of his mouth. “But do not take me wrong, mistress. I do not want to portray William as reckless as much as indifferent. But all of this stems from the time when Mildred, Lord Herries’s daughter--”